


Run for your life

by idioticfangirl



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ghosts, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Arguments, Avengers Family, BAMF Wanda Maximoff, Bad Decisions, Dysfunctional Family, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Implied Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov - Freeform, M/M, Peter Parker is an Avenger
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-07
Updated: 2015-09-07
Packaged: 2018-04-19 14:16:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4749464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idioticfangirl/pseuds/idioticfangirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter Parker has always wanted to be an Avenger.  So, when he gets recruited, he jumps at the chance.  But when it turns out that he is there to replace a dead boy, and that dead boy is haunting him, what will he do?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Brillint Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> My friend suggested this fic as a joke and here it is, one of the longest and best I've ever written. Go figure.

"Shit," Peter muttered, spotting two more miniature spiders creeping towards him. Obviously it was some stupid villains idea of a laugh to create mutated spiders of different shapes, sizes and abilities, and set them on Spiderman. Peter wanted to have a long talk with that villain, and maybe show them a few memes so that they knew the true meaning of comedy.

But he digressed.

Injured, with venom shooting through his veins even as more spiders attacked, horribly outnumbered and running out of web, Peter wondered if this was how he was going to go. Alone, body covered in hundreds of the creatures he was associated with? But if he did, he was going down fighting.

Peter spun, lashing out at the spiders launching themselves at his face and chest, feeling the sting through the thousands of tiny cuts in his suit and skin, before suddenly he heard a sound from behind him. A loud bang, and a few seconds later a quieter thud with a skidding noise. Although the noises cost him his concentration, they didn't cost him his life, because from the direction of whatever-it-was that had made the sound came a jet of fire and a spinning object, both hitting the spiders that had regrouped to attack again.

"You okay, kid?" came a voice that he recognised, if only from the millions of videos of him on youtube that he unashamedly watched.

"We've got bigger things to worry about, Cap," someone replied, and Peter felt the relief overwhelm him that two of the most competent superheroes in the universe were here, had his back, had somehow come to help him.

"Well, smaller actually," the voice that was unrecognisably Tony Stark amended its earlier comment, "but the kid is fine. You're fine, right, kid? See, he's fine."

"I'm not a kid," Peter managed to say, although his heart was in his throat.

"Yeah, well, you've gotta excuse the old man. Once you turn ninety, everyone younger than you is a kid. Isn't that right, Capsicle?"

"Tony, focus on the problem."

"I'm focussed, I'm focussed."

Lost in a sea of pleasure at his greatest dreams coming true, Peter floated through the rest of the battle, hardly feeling his wounds until he was being loaded into the Quinjet by a concerned Steve Rogers, aka Captain America, aka Peter's Greatest Hero.

"Watch it, kid," Tony winked as he saw the awed stare Peter was levelling at Steve, "I was a fanboy before you were even born." Peter grinned, feeling completely at home despite the fact that he didn't know anything about the two older men sitting across from him, other than that they were famous and completely badass.

"Hey, wait," he blurted as the Quinjet took off, "where are we going?" 

"Avengers headquarters," Tony answered immediately, ignoring the disapproving look from Steve that he got in return, "hey, the kid has a right to know!"

Peter chose to ignore the age comment to focus on the more pressing matter, "Why? And what about my Aunt May?"

"We've spoken to your Aunt. She agrees that it will be safer for you to come with us, where we can keep an eye on you, and train you." Steve seemed reluctant to divulge the information to Peter, but did so, if only to stop the barrage of questions.

"Train me?" Peter nearly exploded with indignation, "I've been doing just fine on my own! Where were you in the first months, when I had no idea what was going on and I was dealing with all this shit and trying to save people? Why the fuck do you think I want your help now?"

"You're just a kid, Peter," Steve muttered, "you should never have been left on your own. If I had known, I would have forced them to help you. But now,"

"Stop dancing around it, Steve," Tony cut in, "the truth is, you need money, safety and training. We need a new recruit, more power. We've seen what having new people can do. And, especially since we lost Pietro," he trailed off for a resond before picking up again, "you seemed like the obvious choice! We watched videos of you, and Natasha agreed to focus on your hand to hand combat, and I'm going to develop some new weapons for you, maybe some new blasters. So we both get what we want. Capiche?"

Peter sighed, but nodded, and spent the rest of his journey nursing his considerable wounds.

 

Director Fury met them as soon as they touched down. Trenchcoat flapping in the breeze, he nodded in greeting at Steve and Tony, before whisking Peter away to a room on the top floor of the headquarters. Gathered there was a group that took Peter's breath away: the Avengers. Fury took a seat at the head of the oval table, and gestured for Peter to stand behind him.

"Where're Cap and Stark?" Clint asked, lounging in his chair in such a way that looked both cool and ridiculously uncomfortable. Natasha, sitting in the pleasurable position where she got to have his feet in her lap, eyed him dangerously. Before she got say anything, however, Tony walked in, grinning, followed by a blushing Steve who's hair was significantly more messed up than it had been when Peter had last seen him. Bruce groaned, and Clint smirked, but Thor really went all out.

"My friends!" he roared, "It is good to see that you are relishing the euphoria of winning a battle whilst also celebrating your undying love for each other! I myself, when I see my lady Jane," Peter ignored the rest of the tale about how beautiful Jane looked when Thor came back from battle, preferring instead to commit to memory the picture of Captain America's face tomato red. Beautiful.

"Yes, well, thank you Thor," Fury coughed, and Peter wondered whether he could see the beginnings of a smile playing on his lips, "but that isn't why we are here today. This," he jerked his head towards Peter, "is Peter Parker, although you might know him better as SpiderMan."

"That's SpiderMan?" Bruce choked, at the same time as Clint said,

"But he's a child!"

"I'm eighteen," Peter muttered, but he knew he was fighting a losing battle, "not a child."

"His age aside," Fury boomed, easily able to be heard even over the murmurs of conversation around the room, "Parker is powerful. And, if we can teach him to harness his power, he will be very useful."

"No," the only person in the room whom Peter didn't recognise from his nerdy obsession-gone ally research of the Avengers, "we will not do this." She had an accent that Peter couldn't quite place, eastern European of some kind, and was wearing a red dress. "Not since my brother -"

"Losing Pietro is one of the many reasons that we need Peter. We need to show our enemies that we are not weakened by what happened in Sokovia."

"You will not replace my brother!" There was red static crackling on her fingers.

 

"He's gone, Wanda," Fury's calm voice almost made the statement sting more, and Peter was so done watching people argue about his future, his life.

"Have you just brought me here to replace a dead guy? Am I really that much of a second choice? You obviously don't really want me, so -"

"Peter," Tony stood, "I'll show you to your room. Come with me, okay?" On any other person the look Tony was casting him could be described as pleading, so Peter gave in and shuffled out of the door, wondering how things had gone so wrong.

 

Against everything that he wanted to do, Peter found himself waking up the next morning in the room that had been set up for him in the Avengers facility. It was quite large, but bare, although Tony had assured him that he would be allowed to put whatever he wanted up. Tony had also shown him how to activate the flat screen TV that folded out from the wall, which went a considerable way to his acceptance to stay 'just for the night'. Settling down pleasantly into the bed, which was probably more expensive than his aunt's entire house, he prepared to spend some time watching SpongeBob (just because he wasn't a child didn't mean he didn't enjoy cartoons, you know). He had barely watched one episode of it, however, when there was a knock at the door. Calling for whoever it was to come in, Peter jerked upright in shock when the infamous Black Widow glared at him from the doorway.

"Why aren't you up?" she accused, "We have training."

"But I thought...I'm not..."

She rolled her eyes, "Obviously you thought wrong. Come on," with a commanding clap of her hands she had scared Peter into leaping from the warm sheets, "get dressed! I wanna see you fight." And she walked out, leaving Peter staring at the spot where she had stood and deciding that he really didn't envy Clint.

 

Half-healed battle wounds from yesterday stinging, knuckles smarting from their growing acquaintanceship with the rough punching bag, Peter panted his way through another lap of the obstacle course set up for him in the gym. It consisted of push ups, pull ups, punching, climbing, and, his least favourite, the beep test of hell. After ten laps of that, Natasha kindly allowed him a five minute break before announcing, "And now you get to fight me."

In the few minutes that he managed to stand against Natasha, Peter's face and the safety mat became lifelong friends.

 

"How was it?" Tony chuckled as Peter limped out of the gym, groaning and trying not to move any muscles in his body.

"Terrifying. How is Clint still alive?"

"That's a question that we all want to know the answer to. We even have a betting pool, how long until she kills him, but honestly I think that Fury might kill him before she does. I would say that she has the patience of a saint, but," he whistled lowly, "I've been on the receiving end of that temper, and it would have to be the saint of soccer moms, or something."

Peter laughed, although that hurt his chest, face, mouth, throat, and just about every other part of his body. Tony looked at him appraisingly before remarking, "You know, you're doing better than most people. I've seen people collapse two minutes into that course. Hell, I did the fainting!"

"Conveniently into the good Captain's arms, I presume," Peter winked, enjoying the light blush that came upon Tony as one of the few times he would be able to catch the older man unawares.

"Go shower, you," Tony ruffled his hair, "we're having another meeting soon."

Peter groaned, and this time it was only half from the pain. "Really? I appreciate you guys making me feel welcome, but..."

"Steve wants you to know that we don't mean it. Wanda, she took losing her brother hard. And you aren't a replacement for him, honest to God. We really need you. You're a good kid, and we could use someone like you. Now, go shower, you smell."

Even though he tried to convince himself that he was leaving soon, the ease with which Peter gave in to the strange sense of camaraderie and homeliness in the facility told him that he was staying there for a long time, no matter what crazy superheroes had to say about it.

 

Peter first saw him when he was exploring the headquarters. He had been given permission to look around a bit before the meeting took place, and was currently trying to get his bearing, determined to at least commit the floor plan of the floor his bedroom was on to memory. He opened one door, wincing at the creak it made, and suddenly his instincts were on red alert. He barely had time to throw himself back against the wall before a white blur sped past him, accompanied by a breeze a few seconds later. 

"What the fuck?" he muttered, peering cautiously into the room, but it was bare. Empty and bare. He retracted his head, carefully closing the door again, and decided he should probably go back to his room to be taken to the meeting. It took a lot of effort, but he managed to at least partially ignore the way his instincts were still tingling, the way they did when someone was watching him.

 

Wanda seemed peculiarly subdued during the meeting, which was mainly Steve trying to convince everyone that Peter was, in fact, worth it. Once Natasha had added her part, explaining that he had done very well in her test today and showed skill and intelligence far beyond his age, they all seemed agreed that Peter should be allowed to stay.

"Congratulations, fellow comrade!" Boomed Thor, and Peter wondered for a split second if he ever did anything other than boom, "Soon you will join us in the honourable activities of battling for good!" Bruce, next to him, quirked his lips in a half-smile and nodded at Peter, adding his own 'Well done' in a low voice as they filed out.

"You have been in my brother's room," came the frustratingly hard-to-place accent, and Peter jumped. He had been certain that he was alone in the meeting hall, but here Wanda was.

"Um...no? I don't know who your brother is, or where his room is, but I promise you I want nothing to do with him."

"Don't lie to me, boy," she spat like she wasn't a mere few years older than him, "I can see inside your mind, remember," and Peter had not known that, "and I can see that you have been in there. I understand you want to see who you're replacing, but you will never be as good as him. You will never be him! You will never be my brother, so leave his memory in peace!" She stormed out, and Peter watched her go, his hair standing on end from the energy she had crackling around her in a red aura.

Something about the fact that Wanda didn't even need to use her powers to make him see his greatest fear made Peter angry, all of the pent up resentment unleashing itself towards her, and he was striding up to his room, and then past his room, without thinking about it.

He opened the door with a defiant bang!, and stared unafraid into the darkness of the dead boy's room. It looked so like his own that Peter wasn't sure if he wanted to scream or cry, thinking about the poor guy who had lost his life so young, who could have been him if one of his missions had gone wrong, if his timing had been even a second out. 

"I'm sorry," he muttered into the void, sitting down on the bed that had once belonged to a live man and placing his head in his hands. It wasn't long before the back of his neck started tingling, and he looked up to see a white shape staring back at him, fuzzy but unmistakeably human in shape. The longer it looked, the more solid it got, as though acknowledgement that it did exist was all that it needed to begin to exist.

"Hello," Peter whispered, choosing a low volume to suit the mood of the room which conveniently also hid the shake in his voice. The shape didn't reply, although it reached out towards him slightly. Peter could feel the question, asking him what he was doing here.

"This is, this is some dead guy's bedroom, I guess. I never knew him, but his damn sister hates me because I've been brought in to replace him and I hate him because they don't want me for me, they want me to stand in for him! What the fuck am I supposed to do? I've always wanted to do this, I've always wanted to be an Avenger, but everyone prefers stupid Pietro to me and he's dead!" A light chuckle reminded him that he might still be talking to a figment of his imagination, and he glanced up once more.

In the time it had taken him to rant, the white blur had taken shape. It was now unmistakeably human, and male. He was wearing a black sweater with white arrows down the sleeves, and black joggers. His hair seemed white, although Peter wondered whether that was just the fact that he was still translucent. And, whoever he was, he found Peter's life struggles endlessly hilarious.

"Hey! Fuck off! Who the fuck are you and what's so funny?" Peter yelped.

"If you think you've got problems, you should try being dead. Especially when they've hired some idiot in spandex to replace you." The accent tipped Peter off, but the last comment was what did it.

"Oh my god!" he breathed, unsure of whether to stay or apologise or go or what and ending up tumbling onto the floor in a fit of indecisive awkwardness. Holding his head, which was already bruised from his earlier training session, Peter looked up to see the boy who was definitely Pietro, who was definitely dead, staring down at him. He wondered whether he had hit his head really hard, or if he saw concern on the guy's face as he hauled himself bodily onto the bed once more.

"Are you okay?" Pietro asked, looking like he was still trying to contain his laughter.

"Yeah, I'm good, yeah. So. You're dead?" Peter whacked his face with his free palm for that brilliant conversation starter, but Pietro merely continued to laugh.

"Yeah. It's not so bad," he shrugged, "but no-one can see me. I tried knocking stuff over, but they just shut the windows. Until you!" he looked so genuinely happy that Peter had to grin back.

"Until me," he agreed, cocking his head at the sound of someone calling his name down the corridor, "and I'm gonna get you out of here." Immediately after saying that, he regretted it, unsure if he even could, but willing to try if only for the look of pure relief and gratitude on Pietro's face. He gestured to the door, where Steve's voice was getting closer, and Pietro nodded, mock saluting.

"Peter?" he called, and Peter wondered if he ever had introduced himself, "Don't tell anyone?"

"Our secret. Got it," Peter nodded, halfway out of the door, "I will help you, Pietro. I promise."


	2. Making Friends and Enemies

In between his busy schedule of building up strength with Natasha and performing science experiments with Bruce, both of which were equally taxing to different parts of the body, Peter barely had time to sleep enough to function, let alone to meet with Pietro. He tried to take the time to visit him, bringing news of his sister and the outside world, entertaining little snippets of life that he would have assumed would make Pietro miss life even more, although he was assured that this wasn't the case.

"It is nice to have you talking to me," Pietro shrugged, "no matter what you say." Peter made an agreeing noise absently, half of his concentration on the equations Bruce had set him, ignoring Peter's protests that he hadn't done homework in years. Pietro peered over his shoulder before groaning in disgust. "What is that?"

"Science," Peter replied shortly, "very, very advanced science."

Pietro frowned, "How old are you?"

"18. Wait," suddenly all of his attention was on the man next to him, "wait. How old are you?"

"Well, I was 22 when I died. How long has it been?"

"Seven months. It's the 19th of September today."

"Oh," Pietro sighed, looking down both literally and figuratively, "I missed my birthday."

Peter looked up, feeling his resolve steeling as he was reminded of all that the young man had lost. "When you get out, we can have a party! Your birthday and rebirthday in one!" His attempt to cheer Pietro up did succeed in causing him to crack a smile, but Peter could still see him literally fading away before him, as he was wont to do whenever he was reminded in too painful detail just what had happened to him. 

"Pietro!" Peter waved his hands and yelled, "Pietro! Come back!" The first time that this had happened, he had nearly worked himself up into a full-blown panic attack at the thought that a few ill-chosen words of his could cause his friend to vanish forever, and even though Pietro assured him time and again that he would always come back, that he woke up again on his bed a few hours later, Peter still spent hours pacing backwards and forwards every time, waiting anxiously for Pietro to come back.

"What are you doing?" spat a voice, so familiar to Pietro's in accent and cadence that Peter fumbled for a second, but when he turned it was Wanda watching him, eyes narrowed in a way that Peter took to mean she was reading his mind. More as a deterrence and an annoyance than because of any hope of stopping her, he quickly pushed all thoughts of gay porn to the forefront of his mind, relishing in the small victory of her grimace.

"You...talk to my brother?" she asked, her voice incredibly soft even as her face hardened, and Peter's sigh was half consternation and half relief. He opened his mouth to reply, grateful at least that he wouldn't have to explain himself, when she visibly shook herself, frowning at him. "Why do you pretend that my brother is there? Why are you grieving over him? Why are you doing this?" Peter was going to open his mouth again, starting in surprise when he realised that he hadn't closed it from before, and it was hanging open.

"What? He's right...okay he isn't here right now but I promise you!"

"No!" she yelled, "Don't talk! I'll find the truth. I'll find out what you're doing in here, spider boy."

The image of Pietro staring after his sister in shock as she left, ghostly hand reaching out for her as a few tears shone in his eyes, would haunt Peter forever. Even as he was walking away, admitting defeat silently to himself, he could hear the broken mutters of "She can't see me?"

 

"Bruce," Peter began as soon as he entered the lab. The older man looked at him over his glasses, half smiling.

"This isn't some ploy to get me to forget your homework, is it? Because I can already tell you it won't work."

"No, no," Peter thrust the sheets of paper at him hurriedly, still babbling on. "It's just, is there a way to bring people back from the dead? Not," he hastened to add, seeing the reason behind Bruce's frown, "my parents. Just, like, okay. Imagine they're dead but not dead. A ghost! Imagine a ghost. Is there a way to unghost them?"

"I have spent too long with Tony to even want to know why you're asking me. Honestly, Peter, I would guess that it depends on what you mean by 'unghost'. Bring them back to life, or let them move on? I mean, I don't know, but that makes all the difference, doesn't it?" When Peter sighed, seemingly genuinely upset by the lack of help, Bruce relented, "But you could ask Thor. This sounds more like his area of expertise than mine."

"Thanks Bruce!" Peter squealed, leaving in as much of a hurry as he had come in.

"Peter!" Bruce called after him. Peter stopped, and turned back slightly to face him. "Whoever you're trying to save, think about it first. Maybe it would be better for them if you let them move on?" Peter nodded, lips trembling a little as he took his leave once more.

"FRIDAY?"

"Yes, Mister Banner?"

"Where has Peter been spending his free time?"

"Close analysis shows that Mister Parker spends a lot of time in the bedroom of the late Mister Maximoff."

"Oh, that poor boy," Bruce breathed.

"Are you referring to Mister Parker or Mister Maximoff, sir?"

"Both of them, FRIDAY."

 

Thor was talking animatedly to Vision when Peter burst in, clinging to this one last shred of hope. They both looked up in surprise when he entered, already talking.

"-know about ways to bring people back from the dead?"

"Calm down, my young friend," Thor clamped a hand down on his shoulder, "and begin from the beginning."

"Hypothetically speaking, if I were to need it, would you know about ways to bring people back from the dead?"

"Back from the dead?" Vision commented, "Why would you, hypothetically, need that?"

Peter flailed slightly. "Science project?"

"Regrettably, Man of Spiders, I cannot help you here. The ability to raise the dead eludes even on us Asgard."

"No, no! Not like, dead dead, but ghost dead? I mean, they're kinda here, right? So it's possible?"

"I," Thor pondered this, "I do not know. Knowledge of the shadow arts is not well received, here or on any planet. It is saved for those with the right skills. I am not one of those people." Dejected, Peter nodded once, walking slowly back to where Pietro would be waiting, hoping.

 

No matter how well Pietro seemed to take it, the knowledge that Peter was failing in his promise weighed down on him. He was restless, losing focus in his studies. Bruce seemed to understand, letting it slide with the minimum amount of complaints, but Natasha took his newfound lack of care personally. She left more bruises than usual, hit harder, forced him to endure conditions that he was unsure how he survived, and spent the whole time giving him a death glare that left him looking over his shoulder whenever he was alone.

 

As a way of forgetting his newfound pain in every inch of his body, Peter took to spending long hours in the library, reading through books and browsing the internet for even the stupidest urban legend about raising people from ghosts. Every day, however, he returned to Pietro empty handed, shaking his head in frustration as he uttered those words over and over again, "I'm sorry."

Pietro nodded along, but Peter knew that he was only pretending to be okay for his sake, so that he didn't blame himself too badly. Now avoiding both his classes, the other Avengers and his friend, there was no need for Peter to be anywhere other than the library. Despite years of complaining that school did nothing to prepare him, Peter was now more than able to spend hours poring over hopelessly long-winded books with no sleep or food, and so he put all of those year of all-nighters to good use, finally researching something that would be useful in later life, or, more aptly, for a later life.

He stared blankly at the page, willing the words to somehow absorb into his brain even though he had been reading the same passage for twenty minutes whilst his vision blurred over and his eyes slowly slid shut.

 

Waking with a start, Peter automatically jerked his fist towards the sound of the person whispering in his ear. In his half-asleep state, it took a few seconds for the fact that his hand had hit nothingness to make sense in his brain. As it did, the voice whispered again, "Peter?"

"Good afternoon, Pietro," Peter muttered, trying to act like everything was completely normal and he hadn't just fallen asleep in the most uncomfortable position ever, "what are you doing here?"

"It's 3:30 in the morning," Pietro hissed, "and you haven't said hi for three days. I was worried."

"Nope, nah, it's all good here. Just, you know, research," he gestured to the open book he had been slumped upon, "I find it easier to remember if I, like, put my head against the page. Um. That didn't make sense, did it?" he looked up at Pietro, squinting in the light which seemed so bright after being asleep for two hours.

"You've been here for three days?"

"I think I ate yesterday. Or the day before. There was definitely cereal at some point."

"Peter," Pietro sighed, "you should eat. And sleep. And remind the others that you aren't dead."

"Yeah, but," his mind was still to blurry to tell the difference between something good to say and something he should avoid mentioning, "you are. And I really want to fix that, so I'm gonna do the research," he returned to the book, wincing when he moved his stiff neck.

"Don't be an idiot, Parker. I didn't ask for your help so you could kill yourself doing it! If you're going to be so stupid, just forget about it."

"Pietro, come on man, I'm fine."

Pietro didn't look at him, his gaze focused on the floor in front of him. "Sleep. Get some sleep, and then we can talk."

"Why are you mad at me? What gives you the right to be mad at me for helping you? What is it with everyone in this damn place and acting like I'm fucking useless? Come on, I deserve some gratitude for this shit!"

"Peter," Pietro finally snapped, "shut the fuck up, and grow the fuck up. I don't want you to do this anymore, if you're gonna risk your life doing it. Can't you see that -"

"I can see it just fine. And I agree. This is a complete waste of my time if you don't even care about me getting your life back. So, I'm gonna go to bed. If you wanna read about how to save yourself, I'm sure your super speed can create a breeze to turn the page. Have fun, and I'll see you when I have the time!" he waved mock cheerily, despite the incessant chanting in his head that he was going to regret this, and went to bed.


	3. The Best Intentions, the Worst Decisions

Peter woke up at five in the afternoon with a headache that throbbed in time to the banging on the door, which he chose to ignore for the time being as he writhed in agony. Eventually, the pounding grew too much, and, in genuine fear that the door was about to be knocked off of its hinges, he managed a moan which sounded vaguely like 'come in'.

Steve Rogers flung the door backwards in his haste to get in the room, and stood in the doorway, glowering. Peter felt his heart skip a beat, both in fear that Captain America seemed genuinely furious with him and at the fact that he was about to be told off by his hero, something that he had previously hoped he could go through his whole life without experiencing.

"What did you think you were doing?" Steve demanded, in a voice so reminiscent of his Aunt May that Peter almost asked if they had kept a voice recording of her disappointed tone just in case.

"Sleeping?" he answered, already sounding sheepish when the interrogation had barely started.

"FRIDAY tells us you haven't been doing much of that lately. And Bruce and Natasha say you've been skiving off. Natasha in particular was very upset over that."

"Please don't let her kill me," Peter muttered, "it was for the greater good, I-" he cut himself off, his breath catching as he remembered the early hours of the morning, and all that had been said. He scrambled up, ignoring his body's protests, but Steve moved further into the room, blocking his way out.

"Explain. Because I've seen the videos, and you've been talking to yourself an awful lot. Peter," now his voice had softened, and it almost made Peter feel worse that Steve was so clearly concerned, "is this still about Pietro? I thought we'd got over that. I know Wanda still isn't over the moon about this, but at the very least we've kept you apart. I don't know what you want us to do, Peter," he ran a hand through his hair, which was growing out of its previous military cut and looked much better for it, "we want you to feel at home."

"I do! I do, I really do, and I know it's asking a lot because I know I've been an idiot but can you just trust me? Please? I'll go to class and I'll sleep normally but please, just trust me on this. I need to work some stuff out but I'm not in any danger. If I ever am, I'll go to you, I swear."

Steve looked conflicted, but nodded. "Natasha expects you to be ready for your session in twenty minutes," he warned with a wry smile as he left.

"Kay. Twenty minutes. That's time." Peter muttered to himself, already up and half-dressed, out of the door and on the way to Pietro's room in an instant.

Pietro wasn't there. In all of the time that Peter had been friends with him, he had never not been there. He could leave the room, but he found it safe, and besides he always knew where Peter was. But now he wasn't there.

"Pietro?" Peter called tentatively, "Are you there?" There was no reply. "I wanted to say that I'm really sorry about everything. I didn't mean it. I'm going to keep trying to help you, and I'm going to look after myself. But can you come back? Hello?" he sighed, surreptitiously wiping his eyes as he slowly backed out of the room, hoping to at least catch a glimpse of his friend before he was forced to go to his class with Natasha, but to no avail.

And if Natasha went easy on him, it was probably to do with Steve telling her that he'd had to work through some stuff, and nothing to do with the fact that his eyes were still watery when he entered the room.

 

It took all of Peter's willpower not to go back to how he had been, to ignore everything in favour of trying to help Pietro, this time so that maybe Pietro would forgive him and come back. But that would be counterproductive, since the hole reason Pietro was now avoiding him was that he had been an idiot and refused to listen to anyone trying to help him. But he still found the time to research, getting more and more desperate as he ran out of websites and books, clutching at straws which led him nowhere every time.

 

 

When Peter did find it, it was completely by accident. Having almost given up on books solely about bringing people back from the dead, and having read most of the books about dealing with grief in the hope that one stage might be 'avoid grief altogether by resurrecting your loved one', he had taken to picking books which seemed vaguely related and flicking through them. He almost turned the page when he saw it, the words almost leaping out at him as he read them again and again, making sure that they were there and they did make sense and he could save Pietro, he could do it, Pietro could come back.

Then he stood up, grabbed the book and sprinted out of the library.

 

"Pietro!" he panted as soon as he got in the room, "Pietro look at this! You can save yourself!" he plonked the heavy book down on the bed, opened onto the passage about the Power Cradle, and pointed aggressively. "Pietro! Pietro look I've done it!" his excited faded slightly when Pietro still didn't appear, dwindling down to a small spark. "Pietro? I can't actually do this, it's up to you. But I promised?" he heard his voice cracking as he begged for him to come back.

"What is a Power Cradle?" someone asked, right next to him, and he turned to see the faint outline which was still undoubtedly Pietro. Peter grinned resisting the urge to throw his arms around him merely because he knew they would touch nothing solid, and instead answered, turning his full attention to the book in front of them.

"It amplifies powers that someone has. So Steve would be stronger, I'd be stickier, Wanda would be scarier..."

"And I would be faster. But I can't run away from death, Peter."

"Technically, that's not your power. Your speed is an outcome of your power, but your actual power is a faster metabolism. And do you know what else your metabolism is used for?"

"No clue."

"Healing!" Peter made jazz hands, acting like he had made the punchline of a particularly good joke, but Pietro still seemed confused.

"So....what?"

"So you're here, right? And you can still use your superspeed. So, if we get the cradle, we amplify your healing, and you heal whatever killed you!"

"47 bullet wounds," Pietro muttered, "but I've been dead for so long! My body's been burned, I have nothing to go back into. There's no way this will work."

"Yeah, I thought so too, except, dude, magic! Thor used lightning to electrocute Vision into life, right? Why couldn't he do the same to you?"

"Because that makes no sense."

"It's worth a try, Pietro! And I know where it is as well, in the HYDRA headquarters, they used it on you and Wanda to begin with. They might even have used it on Bucky!"

"With HYDRA?" Peter nodded. "Then no. Definitely not. Peter, they're dangerous. They're -"

"So am I. So are we! I'm not on my own, Pietro, I have all of the Avengers as my team. We can do this, trust me." Pietro sighed, but agreed to at least tell the other Avengers.

 

 

"So, you're probably wondering why I gathered you all here today," Peter began, looking about him at the team of superheroes assembled before him and getting a sudden feeling of stage fright. He turned to his left, where Pietro was smiling encouragingly, took a deep, bracing breath, and carried on. "I know you all think that I went mad a few weeks ago, but you have to trust me. I'm not mad. You can't see, but standing next to me is Pietro Maximoff." 

Tony stopped tapping on his phone and looked up, probably wondering if he should call a mental hospital.

"Trust me! Wait, look," Peter pointed at the papers on the desk, "he can knock those off. Pietro?" Pietro grinned wickedly, shooting past him with a speed that caused a breeze large enough for the papers to flutter to the ground. "See? He's here. As a, well, as a ghost. And I've been talking to him. But I've found a way to bring him back, if you can help me."

By now Wanda had gone red enough to truly live up to her superhero name, so Peter pressed on before she exploded, "In HYDRA's headquarters is a Power Cradle. It amplifies powers, and is what gave the twins their powers to begin with. I believe that, with it, we can amplify Pietro's healing abilities to heal his ghostly body and make it visible, make him human. We just need to get the Cradle."

Steve jumped in over the confused mutters of his team, "Okay. Let's say we believe you. How are we going to get the cradle? Getting into HYDRA's headquarters was hard enough the first time, and there's no way we can get in and out without being discovered and captured. We don't even know if this will work, we can't risk it."

"You can't get in without being discovered. But," Peter wondered to himself whether he was really going to suggest this, "I can do the finding, if Scarlet Witch deals with the guards. Just the two of us, a small team has less chance of being caught. Wanda will barely be at risk, it will just be me going all the way in and I want to do this." Everyone still looked dubious, so he pulled out his last argument. "If you don't agree to this, I can do it anyway. On my own. And," he looked over at Pietro, "I will."

That was enough to convince everyone, so Peter graciously left the floor to allow Steve to strategize.

 

It was decided that they would go in two days, and that in between that time Peter's training would step it up quite a few notches, to prepare him as best they could. As such, he had no time to see Pietro until the night before they would be leaving. He walked into the room, where Pietro was already waiting, and grinned shakily.

"If this all goes to plan, you could be human again by the end of the week!" he exclaimed.

"Peter," Pietro said softly, sounding less excited than he should be, "if this doesn't go to plan..."

"It will!"

"If it doesn't," he said more forcefully, "if something goes wrong, get out. Don't think about me, don't think about the cradle, don't think about anything but staying alive. I do not matter in that situation. Nothing matters except you."

"I'll be fine, Pietro, I've done stuff like this before."

"I know. I believe that you can do it. But I'm not worth dying for. Just don't die, okay?" Pietro had his head cocked, eyes searching Peter's as he pushed all of his faith into the words, trying to make him believe that this was important, that he meant every word he said. Peter stared right back, nodding once in understanding. They sat on the bed in companionable silence for some time, and when Peter fell asleep, he felt more safe than he had in a long time, despite the daunting prospect of HYDRA looming in front of him.

 

 

"Ready to do this, kid?" Stark appeared behind Peter as he frantically checked through his weapons, ensuring that he had everything even though nothing had changed since the last time he had checked, five minutes before.

"Yeah, I think. No, actually. Not at all." 

Tony smiled understandingly, reaching into his pocket and pulling something out.

"If you need help, break this. We will find you." Peter took the gadget wordlessly and placed it carefully in his bag.

"Ready?" Wanda asked, hovering outside his door. He shouldered his bag, fist-bumping Tony, and left with her.

 

The QuinJet was silent, with only the sound of the engines whirring breaking the air of anticipation. Although she was no longer threatening him, Peter didn't like Wanda at all, and he knew that she could tell that. Steve had offered to go in his place, telling him that fighting alongside someone whom you didn't trust was a recipe for disaster, but Peter had to do it. For Pietro.

When they landed, Wanda went first. She took out the first two guards with a flick of her wrist, and then the next. When they reached a fork in the corridor, she barely glanced back at Peter before taking the right side. Peter took the left, safe in the knowledge that she would cause enough of a commotion to call all of the guards to where she was. Meanwhile, he slinked along the walls, getting closer with every step. 

Finally, he was there. Breaking into the room, he gasped when he saw it. It was smaller than he had expected, about the size of his fist, and bright purple. Carved into the sides were strange runes, old letters speaking of the magnificent power of this small rock. Peter reached out and grabbed it, flinching at the loud squeal of alarms that followed. He turned quickly and saw his way blocked by a man in a suit, standing in front of the door. The man held no weapons but was still smirking confidently.

"Spiderman," he drawled, "the one and only. Finally an Avenger, are you? Or did they just hire you to bring back speedy? No matter, I guess. Once he's back, you'll be out and alone no matter what the intentions. Or did you really think you could stand up to him? Leaving he cradle with me is the only way to keep your life the way it should be, the way it is now. They'll understand if you say you got attacked. Give it to me," he stretched his arm out, palm open and faced upwards. Peter's arm shot out too, automatically webbing the guy. When he was gagged and stuck to the wall, Peter walked out, breathing heavily despite not having fought much.

Neither he nor Wanda spoke on the way back, she because she was nursing her wounds and he because he was thinking.

Once they had landed at the facility, Peter ignored all others in favour of running to Pietro's room. Tony nearly followed him, but Peter heard Thor say, "Leave him be. The first battle of this magnitude is never easy to recover from."

Pietro was waiting for him in his room, pacing backwards and forwards at superspeed. "Did you find it?" he demanded, glancing between Peter's face and his hands. Seeing the look on Peter, however, he took a step back, confused.

Peter would have liked to say that it took him a long time to struggle with himself, that he fought his own dark side valiantly. More than anything he would have liked to say that he did the right thing. That he didn't look Pietro Maximoff, his best friend, straight in his hopeful, shining face, and say, "I'm sorry. I did my best."

He couldn't bear the heartbroken expression Pietro wore, or ignore the way Pietro reached out for him automatically. Feeling the power cradle burning in his pocket, Peter turned and left, ready to continue being an Avenger.

"I did my best," he repeated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aren't I evil


	4. As Long as I Have You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry about that cliffhanger!

Peter was so ready to be left alone, to collapse on his bed and try to forget what he had just done, that when he saw Wanda sitting on the chair in his room he groaned aloud. Almost before she had acknowledged his entrance she was reading his mind, sorting through the memories of the headquarters through to the conversation with Pietro, before finally setting on the guilt weighing on his brain coupled with the lump of the power cradle in his pocket. Her face twisted in anger, hand snapping up with fingers splayed to throw him backwards against the wall.

"What have you done?" She snarled.

Peter swallowed, attempting to open his mouth but failing as Wanda's magic pushed harder on him, pressing in on his chest and throat with enough force to dispel all air from his lungs. Instead of speaking, he forced the conversation with the man in a suit towards her, putting emphasis on the fear of abandonment stemming from it. He allowed her probing mind into parts of his brain that previously he had worked hard to keep locked away from her, the feeling of inadequacy that he felt whenever he saw everything the other Avengers could do, the need to belong which was only accentuated by the knowledge that Pietro was truly powerful.

Wanda pushed harder with her hand, gritting her teeth. Peter flailed for a second, opening up further, showing her why he didn't want to leave. Her eyes flickered slightly as the feeling of pure family washed over her from him, the happiness of finding those you belong with after being alone for so long. He showed him and Bruce working together, Bruce congratulating him on finding an answer they had struggled with. He showed Tony watching a terrible film with him, mocking the shitty dialogue. He showed Steve looking after him after he got injured in a fight, Clint hovering by to keep him amused whilst Natasha threatened to kill everyone who had ever hurt him in several different languages. Finally, as a last ditch effort, he showed Pietro. All of the time that they had spent together, laughing and joking on the bed in his room and forgetting all of their numerous problems. He showed the thoughts running through his head when he lied to Pietro, partly of the need to be an Avenger but mostly of the need to stay with Pietro, no matter what.

Wanda pulled back, wiping her eyes with the heel of her hand. She nodded minutely a few times, choking out, "Make it right." Despite not sounding in the least bit threatening, this compelled Peter to fix it with more power than any threat. After all, she had lost Pietro already.

 

 

That night, while everyone was asleep, Peter picked up his already packed backpack and slung it across his shoulder. Looking back on the room, which was now as bare as it had been to begin with, he took a deep breath and left. The walk down the corridor to Pietro's room seemed simultaneously longer than ever before and far too short. The door was shut, and it opened with a screech that was deafening in the midnight air.

No-one was in the room. Peter tiptoed inside, leaving a bundle on the bed. In the moonlight shining in through the open blinds, he read the letter that he had left.

"Dear Pietro,  
I hope that you can forgive me for what I've done and what I'm about to do. If I had days, maybe I could explain why I did it to the point where you understood, even if that was all. But I don't have days.  
The truth is, I lied to you. I recovered the power cradle and I had every intention of giving it to you, I really did. But once you had it, they wouldn't need me any more. Even the HYDRA agent knew that much. So I thought I would save myself the heartbreak of leaving you" 

Here Peter crossed out the word 'you' and replaced it with 'everyone'.

"So I thought that I would save myself the heartbreak of leaving everyone by leaving it the way it was. I realise now that it was wrong, I knew then that it was wrong. But I am not going to prevent you from living the life you deserve just because of me. The power cradle is wrapped in cloth underneath this letter, for your use. I hope that it works, I really do. Whatever happens, I'm sorry again for lying to you, and also for the fact that I am leaving. The others won't need me, and neither will you.  
I'll miss you,  
Peter (Spidey)"

He stared wistfully at the room one more time. Then he left the facility, and the people in it, forever.

 

 

When Pietro woke up, his first thought was of a boy named Peter. His next thoughts were questions of who he was, where he was, and what had happened to him. He opened his eyes, squinting against the light which was emphasised by the white ceiling and walls, which were blocked only by the body of a girl sitting next to him.

"Wha?" he asked, surprised to find that he had an accent.

"Pietro!" the girl exclaimed, in the same accent, throwing her arms around him. He stiffened, unsure of the procedure for dealing with people who acted like they knew you when they didn't, and she pulled back, looking confused.

"Don't you remember?"

"Remember what?"

She placed her palm on his forehead. At first, Pietro was sure that she was checking his temperature, so sure that he opened his mouth to say he was fine, but was then assaulted by a barrage of memories. He remembered his sister, he remembered his parents dying. He remembered the Avengers. He remembered...his body arched as he cried out, going through the pain of dying once more. It hurt more than anything, and he wanted to curl up into a ball and cry. Then the memories became softer, of a boy who risked everything to help him, with beautiful green eyes and ridiculously quiffed hair. He smiled, despite himself, finally remembering the name of his saviour. Peter.

"Wanda," he whispered, seeing his sister once more. She hugged him again, and this time he hugged back. When they broke apart, the door was open and the Avengers were filing in, grinning from ear to ear.

"But wait, he isn't dead!" he heard Tony mutter, which Clint completed by singing,

"Shia surprise!" 

Pietro laughed, finding even the most ridiculous of phrases hilarious due to the exhilaration of being alive. They crowded around him, greeting him and asking him how he felt. Pietro craned his neck around them, looking for the one person that he really wanted to see. But...Peter wasn't there?

"Is Peter okay?" he asked suddenly, interrupting Tony. The group glanced between themselves, clearly arguing about who would break the news. 

"Pietro, don't you remember," Steve asked, leaning down carefully, "the letter..."

And, once more, Pietro remembered. He remembered reading the letter, throwing it down and ignoring the power cradle, storming out. He remembered being stopped by the sound of his sister calling him name, drawn back towards his room where she was trying to get him to take it. He remembered attempting to leave once more, to follow Peter, but she slammed the door with a flick of her wrist.

"Peter!" he gasped, rolling out of bed in one fluid movement. For a second, his legs couldn't support his waist, but he gripped the railing and carried on, pretending not to notice the others protesting and trying to push him back onto the bed. He tore away from their hands, channelling his speed as much as he could, standing out in the street in a matter of seconds. But where would Peter go?

A conversation that they had once had came to mind, in which Peter told him about his 'safe spot'. It was on a skyscraper, high enough that no-one could see him up there. He said he felt at home. Barely had the thought crossed Pietro's mind than he was on his way, knocking over a car in his haste.

 

And Peter was there, alone, his head in his hands. Even from across the roof Pietro could hear the soft sobs, and he felt the sudden desire to kill anyone that had ever hurt Peter. The need to protect him came a close second to the need to comfort him, so he crossed the roof, putting his arm around Peter as he sat down next to him.

Peter didn't look up, didn't attempt to defend himself in any way. Pietro sighed, moving his mouth close to the boy's ear as he whispered, "You did it."

Immediately Peter's head sprung up, taking in Pietro in all of his full, undead glory. "It worked! You did it!"

"We did it," corrected Pietro, but he was nodding, "and now you're going to come back with me."

"But...I only came to replace you. I won't ever be as good as you."

"You're smart, and brave, and a great fighter," Pietro cradled Peter's head in his hands, "and you don't have superspeed but you're you, and that's all we want. The Avengers need you," when Peter shook his head, he tried again, "I need you. If you were exactly like me, I wouldn't be able to love you, would I?"

Hardly daring to breath, he leaned in for a kiss, ghosting across Peter's lips before pulling back. Peter glanced at Pietro's lips before grinning widely.

"I love you too," he whispered as he leant in for another kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I hope you liked it!


End file.
